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A  Day  in  My  Life  ...          

 An  anthology  of  short  pieces  by  young  writers  

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A  Day  in  the  Life    This  anthology  is  a  compilation  of  works  by  talented  young  writers  aged  8  to  14.    All  are  based  on  the  theme  of  the  June  2014  Writing  Classes  For  Kids  writing  competition,  A  Day  in  the  Life.  (http://writingclassesforkids.com)    They  are  fabulous  examples  of  how  we  use  our  imaginations  and  life  experiences  to  interpret  a  particular  theme,  how  our  writing  is  different  because  we  are  all  different.    Congratulations  to  all  the  writers  who  were  selected  for  this  publication.    I  hope  readers  enjoy  your  pieces  as  much  as  I  did.    Happy  writing:)    Dee    Dee  White  Author        www.deescribe.com.au

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Contents    Why  I  don’t  like  lifts  by  Jaein  Kong  -­‐  aged  8 ............................................................................. 4  A  Day  in  the  Life  by  Joan  Wong  -­‐  aged  9 .................................................................................... 5  A  Day  in  the  Life  of  a  Cow  by  Serena  Li  -­‐  aged  9 ..................................................................... 7  A  Day  in  the  Life  of  an  Incredibly  Small  Girl  by  Ciara  Casement  aged  11..................... 9  My  Grandmother  by  Melissa  Li  -­‐  aged  11............................................................................... 11  Walking  on  Stars  by  Fatima  Balbin  -­‐  aged  11 ...................................................................... 13  The  Blitz  by  Malena  Bertrand  -­‐  aged  11................................................................................. 15  A  Day  in  the  Life  of  Me  by  Megan  Parker  -­‐  aged  12............................................................ 16  Mr  Shelby  by  Ria  Grewal  -­‐  aged  12 ........................................................................................... 18  When  I  Ran  For  Vice  President  by  Keearin  Jackson  -­‐  aged  13 ....................................... 20  The  Best  Day  of  My  Life  by  Evie  Leveille  -­‐  aged  13............................................................. 22  Always  Apart  by  Katie  O'Malley-­‐  aged  14.............................................................................. 24  My  Ordinary  Day  by  Edward  Morton  -­‐  aged  14................................................................... 26    

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Why  I  don’t  like  lifts  by  Jaein  Kong  -­  aged  8    

I know you’re wondering why the title is “Why I don’t like lifts.”

Well, you see when I was young, I went shopping with my mum. One

day, my mum was late so I pressed the button and the lift soon opened.

So I went in and just as my mum was coming, another lady came in and

pressed a button (maybe close

button I think) and we were off!

We went higher and higher

then all of a sudden we stopped.

The lady went out of the lift and

now I was all alone. But luckily,

my mum had pressed the down

button and down I went until the

lift opened in front of my mum.

We climbed into the lift and

finally we started shopping.

No, I don’t willingly step

into lifts first. My mum calls it

trauma, actually, I don’t know

what that means.

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A  Day  in  the  Life  by  Joan  Wong  -­  aged  9    

Everyday is just the same, but today a bad feeling came to my

senses. As I woke terrible things came floating in my mind like every

other day but today it seemed real. As I walked to school this morning it

was like a shadow of a humongous creature was following me but it

disappeared when I turn my head.

As I was in class it felt strange. I didn’t know why. Suddenly a

flash whipped something around me and I was alone in darkness.

A huge noise came from within a dark room. But when I went in

there was nothing there. I was so sure it was there until a whip of heat

swirled around me and nearly burnt me to crisp.

As the noise became louder and the heat kept building, there was

no way out. I was trapped! Soon it was over 100 degrees Celsius. I felt

light headed and dizzy as a tremendous flash of fire headed towards me

and suddenly a soft, bushy creature sprinted toward me and pushed me

toward the creature and the power flung me toward a swirling, rapid

hurricane!

It came closer and closer, and suddenly swooped me off my feet

and I gushed into the swirling hurricane. It was impossible to escape as I

whooshed into the eye of the hurricane.

I felt so calm. It must have been a different type of hurricane

because it isn’t normally calm at the eye of the hurricane.

I got pushed in to a cave so dark I couldn’t see a thing. As I crept

toward a cliff I heard a crack on the floor. It was like ice, it is limestone

because there is lots of calcite!

This was bad. If I fell I would be trapped. As I tried not to put

pressure on the floor and walked slowly ... ARHHHHHHH!

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I came tumbling down a big hole through the limestone somehow I

hit some hard rock which had lava there. What was I going to do? I tried

climbing the stones but the lava was rising higher until I quickly jumped

into a cave I had spotted on the side, and sealed it with a big rock just in

time as the lava came and whooshed right up to the top and crackled.

Whew I was safe

for now! As I went

through the back of the

cave I saw a bright light

just there.

I crawled out and

headed north as I

scuttled into a dark and

spooky hole like a portal

but I guess the lava

passed through the rock

because it was heading

towards me.

I had no choice. I entered the portal and suddenly landed right at

the cafeteria where I was eating lunch I was so dizzy after that but when I

told everyone they thought I was silly and kept on eating. Was it a dream

or not?

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A  Day  in  the  Life  of  a  Cow  by  Serena  Li  -­  aged  9    

Jump over the moon, jump over the moon, the crowd of

excited people shout. I roll my eyes and swish my tail.

"Cow, mummy! Look at cow!" a baby gurgles.

Yes, darling, a cow!

I glance around to look for my friends, the spoon and the dish,

but they are nowhere to be seen. A kitten with a fiddle and a dog run

around the field, the kitten playing Silent Night while being chased by the

dog. I swish my tail in annoyance. The performance is about to start, and

the spoon and the dish are nowhere to be seen.

A glint of silver flashes, and Spoon, followed by Dish, leap

onto the stage, just as the music starts.

‘Hey diddle diddle,

The cat and the fiddle,

The cow jumped over the moon.

The little dog laughed,

To see such sport,

And the dish ran away with the spoon.’

The music blares, accompanied by the kitten, who plays his

fiddle to the music. I dance onto the stage, and l-e-a p over the moon. The

dog bounces behind the kitten, and laughs merrily. In the distance, the

spoon and the dish, holding hands, run off together towards the grass-

covered hills.

Applause like thunder sounds, and the crowd slowly files away.

I wake up early and stealthily creep out of the old barn that we

stayed the night in, then trot to Jack’s house. I belong to Jack, but at

night, I creep out and perform with my friends on the hill.

‘Today, I’m going to sell you,’ announces Jack casually.

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‘Moo?’

Inside, I am seething with anger. What will happen to performing

on the hill if I am to be sold? We walk past a statue of a man sitting on

the ground, but when the statue turns his head to look at us, I realize that

he is not a statue, but a man, sitting very still.

‘Can ya sell that cow ta me for some beans? They’re magic I tell

ya!’

Being as foolish as Jack

is, he sells me for five moldy

green beans. The man smiles,

and leads me away, to a dusty

road. With every reluctant step,

I stir up a thick cloud of dust

that eventually disintegrates.

The man leads me to a familiar

barn surrounded by apple trees

and blackberry bushes, at the

base of a hill.

Realization struck me as I remembered the night on the hill. This

was the very barn in which we slept. I broke free of his grip and launched

at the rotting wooden door, knocking it open, and startling my friends. A

joyous reunion commenced at once, and I was so busy that I did not

notice that the man had left, silently, but speedily. Once again, I was

reunited with my friends, in a life of performing nightly on the small

stage upon the hill.

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A  Day  in  the  Life  of  an  Incredibly  Small  Girl  by  Ciara  Casement  aged  11    

The best day of my

life. Well how should I

start? The best day was

also, the worst day. And

like everyday, it began

the same way.

Sadly, my nan sat

staring into space on the

same chair. I was

completely alone it

seemed.

Unfortunately, I

was only small, totally

inadequate to look after

her. So, I sat hugging her

knees in despair. Back

then, the house had been

nothing but empty

shadows imprinted on

my brain. A nightmare I suppose. Now, I look back and smile, for I

remember there’s always light, somewhere, despite all the hard times.

Yet again, I sat as still as a statue staring into my nan's empty eyes

as a sigh escaped my lips,

“What’s the matter my child?” my nan would ask.

“Nothing Nan.” If only she knew her time was up, if only she

knew.

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Sometimes, I look back; seeing nothing but blackness, I crawl

away from the memories. You might be thinking, how could there be

anything happy in this story, well, you’ll have to find out…

“Oh Nan how I wish to be tall, just like you and mother.” My eyes

would glimmer with the potential of a tear.

“You see my child, you’ll grow.” Where a smile would’ve been,

now lay a frown, suffering from pain.

All of a sudden, my nan got up, placed a hand on my cheek, and

said my name in a silent whisper. Then, out of the blue, she collapsed. I

was alone. I screamed.

Now, every time I see the flash of an ambulance, I pray it’s not

someone I love. Still wondering why this story is a happy one? Well, I

shall have to tell you, later…

Gradually, the memories grew back. I can recall the phone call, my

mother running into my room in a teary mess, rocking me in her arms.

According to my nan's last words, she wanted to give me a letter

before she passed away, saying she’d solved a mystery. “The mystery for

being tall, is to not only to wish, but believe” her scruffy handwriting

filled the page: “My dear for you must believe, but remember this, it’s the

heart that matters in the end.”

That was the happiest day of my life; it will remain in my heart,

forever and always. As usual, my life has been a series of ups and downs.

However, now I realize the greatest mystery of all time, despite all the

troubles one must face, you must remember it’s the heart that matters.

Nothing else. As for my nan, I couldn’t love her more…

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My  Grandmother  by  Melissa  Li  -­  aged  11    

I looked down, shuffling my feet. I was in a black dress and high

heels. I wasn’t used to wearing these clothes. I felt really out of place. I

looked up, searching for my mother. She was crying, shoulders heaving

in great big sobs, on her sister’s shoulder. My grandfather was crying,

silent little sniffs. He never cried.

My mum kneeled beside the open casket and cried harder, tears

streaming down her face, dripping onto Grandmother’s still body. She

whispered, “Goodbye, Mother. I’ll always love you.” Then it was

Aunty’s turn and then Grandfather’s turn. The casket closed and was

taken away.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even have a chance to say

goodbye. As I watched my grandmother disappear down the mountain, I

whispered, “Goodbye, Granny” so quietly no one heard me. Tears rolled

down my face and dropped on the ground, splintering into a million

precious shards, like my heart.

My grandmother was my favourite person in the world. She was a

lively soul but peaceful. She had a sense of humour and was caring and

kind.

Then she moved back to China. We visited her every year and I

looked forward to seeing her every time. Then one time when we went to

visit her she wasn’t as lively or happy. When I asked her what was

wrong, she put on a brave face and replied, “Nothing, dear.” But I didn’t

quite believe her. Something had to be wrong. And I was right.

My grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2002. The

cancer was in the background at first, but then it got worse. My family

visited her once more in 2013. By now, my grandmother was so frail she

could not walk and she had trouble breathing by herself. Most of her hair

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had fallen out from chemotherapy. The

doctors could only try to make her last days

on earth more bearable for her.

I hated visiting my grandmother. It was

boring and there was nothing to do. But I

would have cherished my visits if I had

known that would be the last time I saw her alive.

3rd August 2012, 2:30am. The phone buzzed. Who would send a

message so early in the morning? My mum ignored it but after that we

couldn’t sleep. What if something had happened to Grandmother? Our

fears were confirmed at 8:30am the next morning.

Grandmother had died peacefully in her sleep, losing her 11-year

battle with cancer. I couldn’t believe I would never see her again. I went

into my room and screamed, letting out all my rage. I sobbed and

punched my pillow. I kicked the door and smashed the framed picture of

my grandmother and I hanging on the wall. Why did it have to be my

grandmother who died? Why not someone else? Why did God have to do

this to me?

The day my grandmother died was the day I realised I loved her

more than ever before.

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Walking  on  Stars  by  Fatima  Balbin  -­  aged  11          

I woke up from my fairly nice and quiet slumber. When I say

fairly, I'm totally lying. All night, my baby niece, Allison continuously

made erratic cries while my little sis, Marilyn climbed on top of my

stomach, mumbling incoherent words.

"Oof!" I exclaimed as Marilyn was sprawled across my tummy. I

was WAY too lazy and tired to push her off so I just let myself drown in

silent darkness.

About 2 hours later, I whispered, "Too early" as I watched the

clock goes from 7:53 to 7:54. I decided it was time to get up so I pushed

Marilyn off of me (Yep, she's still here. Such a disappointment) and I

rolled of my bed onto the carpet with a thud. I climbed back up with

wobbly legs and I just left Marilyn on my bed.

I grabbed my prepared clothes with me and went to the bathroom. I

tied my hair in a topknot to keep my hair from getting soaked. I washed

my body then I shivered as the coldness created goose bumps against my

skin. I dressed into my ripped, denim short shorts with a Radiohead logo

shirt. I paired them up with an army jacket and black combat boots. I

packed up all my belongings into a small backpack for the special road

trip! My friends and I were going to drive in a convertible car, singing

our lungs out to the Hollywood Walk Of Fame! I should start eating

breakfast right now...

After 30 minutes of snoozing to regain my sleep, I laid my

backpack on the passenger's seat of my red and white convertible. I raced

my way to my friends' houses. And off we went to, the Walk Of Fame!

From Los Angeles to Hollywood Walk Of Fame, was about 20

minutes. We were lucky to live that close!

Everyone filed out the car and we walked around Hollywood

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Boulevard. We didn't want to go to the Stars till nighttime. Little shops

and cafes crowded the streets of Hollywood. I ran and I posed like a rock

star! Elise, one of my friends took out a vintage camera and took a photo

at the back side of me. The photo instantly slid out and I must say! I

looked GREAT!!!!!!

We laughed, screamed,

yelled, ran like

maniacs! So we pretty

much acted like we

were going to die

young!

Hours passed, our stomachs grumbled and groaned. All of us

looked at our stomachs and glanced at each other.

"Look! There's that diner, um, called Roamer Remix! We should

eat there!" Mandy exclaimed.

Lunch choked down our throats. Shopping, taking pictures,

dancing and all those good stuff kept us busy.

Finally, the sky darkened! The night to finally have a walk on the

famous stars! I squealed in excitement!

We ran to the Hollywood Walk Of Fame. Light extensions hung

high everywhere. Astonishment was on my forehead.

This day of my life, I was Walking On Stars!

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The  Blitz  by  Malena  Bertrand  -­  aged  11  A day as a kid during the Blitz (air strikes during WW2 in

London)

The alarms noise alerts us

The striking noise of the enemies´ airplanes makes us run

The bombs making noises heard miles away.

With such a threat,

Do we really stand a chance?

Homes being crushed

And with them our hope.

We are dying by millions.

oh Lord help us all!

They have the ultimate elite.

The ultimate machinery.

What have we got?

Tell me you Lord of our Hope

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A  Day  in  the  Life  of  Me  by  Megan  Parker  -­  aged  12  

Wearily I held onto my sister’s small cold hand. The machine she

was hooked up to beeped with every passing heartbeat. I was tired, it had

taken all my strength to get her away from the wolves. You see just until

this morning my life had been fine. My sister had begged me to go and

play in the garden before she went to school so I let her. I had come out

to get her when I was just in time to see her dragged into the woods by

the wolves. Fuelled with adrenaline I had managed to pry her away from

them and I was unharmed.

Now I sat in the hospital leaning over her limp body I kissed her

forehead waiting for her to pull a face as she usually would but nothing

happened. “Goodbye” I whispered.

Out the hospital walking down the steps, my instincts urged me

towards the forest. After minutes of walking I collapsed by a tree, sighing

dramatically.

Then my attention was brought to my arm which began to sting. I

looked at it immediately. A bite, a bite on my arm where wolves sharp

teeth had plunged into it. With all the adrenalin I must have forgotten all

about it. I suddenly got worried and decided to go and get it checked out

back at the hospital. I stood, about to make my way back there, when

suddenly a searing pain shot through my back. My muscles burned but no

scream came out when I opened my mouth. Then darkness.

When I opened my eyes I remembered nothing but somehow the

world looked a lot brighter. I could hear every little detail, even the

trickling of a stream nearby.

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I got up making my way to the stream when I didn’t reach it after a

few minutes of walking I began run I felt free, like this was where I

belonged. When I did reach it I realised it must have been further away

then I thought. I looked down into the water and the sight that stared back

at me was not what I expected to see.

A white wolf

stared back at me,

and when I moved

so did she. She was

me! I stared into

the water in shock

the events of this

morning rushing

back to me. The

bite! It must have

been infected and

somehow this had

happened.

So when I

heard the wolves

howls far in the distance. I ran to them, this was my life now. That was

the day in the life of me. The day in my life that would change all days.

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Mr  Shelby  by  Ria  Grewal  -­  aged  12  

My eyes clicked open, as I smelt the scent of petrol and strong

cologne which made me gag. I stared outside the dusty window. A dirty

lime car dragging a broken licence plate pulled up in the driveway with a

screeching stop. The door squeaked open revealing a chubby, badly-

shaven man who was struggling to get out.

My older sister Eadlin gently pushed me aside to look at the

strange man in our driveway. He walked up to the door and forcefully

knocked three times. Uncle Benat came rushing down the creaky steps

with an anxious look on his face. He opened the door and was instantly

relieved by the outcome. "Phew, I thought you were the tax collector for

a second there” he laughed.

The man put his hands on the belly of his cheap suit and gave a

hearty chuckle. ” Ah Benat, haven’t changed a bit have you?"

“Girls, say hello to

Mr Shelby” he directed

to my sister and I.

I stared at the man

curiously. He didn't seem

very friendly towards

children with his eyes

saying ‘I couldn't care

less’.

“Um… why don’t you girls go play outside while Mr Shelby and I

talk in the other room,” suggested uncle Benat.“

But we just went outside “moaned Eadlin.

“Well go again!” he ordered with a tone of harshness in his voice.

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We dragged our feet outside into the gloomy day and sat by the lake. Our

fingers were numb after playing thumb war over and over again. Our feet

were sore after chasing each other for hours. What were they talking

about?

We were in the middle of hopscotch when we heard uncle Benat

shout for Eadlin to join him. She looked at me and reluctantly stepped

into the house. I followed her. We entered the room in which the two men

were sitting.

"Hello” said Mr Shelby smiling at Eadlin,” we just want to have a

chat with you for a moment” he glanced at me before saying “alone”.

Uncle said, “While you’re here why don’t you get us some tea?”

I walked out of the room and into the kitchen where I turned the

kettle on. I guessed that uncle Benat would have wanted me to put it in

the good china for his special friend.

I headed back to the room but stopped at the doorway where they

couldn't see me. My sister was standing next to Mr Shelby who gave a

nasty grin as he looked at her. It seemed as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Don’t worry” he chuckled as he put his hat on as he grabbed his

suitcase; “it won’t be that bad working for me” he picked up a suitcase

full of her clothes.

I felt uncle Banat’s good china cracking on my feet with the

painful heat of the tea making me cringe.

“Is someone there?” he shouted.

I didn't care about the pain anymore. My feet were scrambling

around on the floor and heading for the door and out into the woods. I

couldn't stop running. I was far from home and tired but I didn't want to

stop. It would only make me sit down and think about my sister being

sold as a slave.

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When  I  Ran  For  Vice  President  by  Keearin  Jackson  -­  aged  13  

Another year, a brand new school, and a fresh start. A fresh start at

Paul Cuffe Academy and a chance to run for 2013-2014 Student Council.

My name is Keearin Jackson and I was in 7th grade and 13 years

old when I ran for Vice President. Since I was new I thought I would lose

or would not even stand a chance

because I was running against two

people who been here since

kindergarten.

The names are not important,

but they are Talisa Baylor, the so-

called popular girl and Christopher

Boones, who won last year. Talisa

always tried to bring me down and

would tell me I was going to lose.

Sometimes I would ignore her, other

times I would respond to her and say

"ok" or "I don't care."

On November 7th at 12:00pm,

I hung up posters that said my

slogan, "The Kee to the Future" with

a picture of me from my birthday

because my hair was freshly styled.

Talisa tried to be sneaky and put her poster over mine. I took them off of

course. November 14th was the speech and I was nervous and shy. When

I started I was shaking and so was my voice, but when we got to the end

it got clearer and I said "Vote for KJ because I'll make it rain candy all

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day."

After the speeches we went to recess then to class to wait to vote. I

voted for myself of course and surprisingly Christopher voted for me too.

At the end of the day they announced who won for each position.

Then it came to Vice President and the office said "Keearin

Jackson." I was screaming and I was excited, but Talisa was not so

happy. She expected to win, but not all popular girls win. I meant mean

girls because that's what she really is. I really thank my mother and her

friends, my friends, and God because they gave me the confidence.

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The  Best  Day  of  My  Life  by  Evie  Leveille  -­  aged  13    

As a small girl in a large world, I was raised to believe that one

person couldn’t make a change.

The saddest part is that nobody could change the ways I doubted

myself. Fortunately, that girl grew up. I recently learned that I can make a

change. In fact, I can make a change in the entire world. Now I find it my

duty to help people become aware of that change. The change that I

would like to see in the world is not something simple, for it’s in what we

eat; the lies that people hear today about what’s in their food is literally

killing people. The best day of my life was when I learned to face it.

Michael Pollan is an amazing author. Some say he writes complex

books that only grownups can understand. I beg to differ. The best day of

my life was when I started reading one of his books, The Omnivore’s

Dilemma. Then I saw the movie Food, Inc. My perspective of the entire

world changed that day. Michael Pollan tries to make a stand that will

lead to action. I learned that

day that the adults in the

world are just too slow. I

gained the opinion that

changes in the way

Americans eat can be seen

faster if we start with us kids.

I will always remember

the best day of my life. I

believe that it’s what changed

me from a girl to a woman. This is just a start. I learned, then, that I have

a voice. I learned about issues, such as the global food crisis going on,

and I found out that kids can have as strong opinions as adults. This is

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only the beginning of my stand. I was inspired that day to show the world

that I am strong.

I found that I have a brain. I have ideas. My dream arose that day. I

want to be in print. I want to show the entire world exactly what Michael

Pollan shows. In fact, I want to be the Michael Pollan of my own

generation. I want adults to see that a child was so easily inspired. I want

the few fighting nutritionists out there to know that there are children,

too. There are children that care. It all started with that one day.

We could be free. I crave that freedom. I would really like to show

the world that kids are strong, too. Wouldn’t it be great if we could save

the world with a simple change of heart? This would mean more than

most things to me, a child. It doesn’t have to be the best day in your life.

It’s just important to understand that it could be the best day in a lost

child’s life. The best day of my life was when I discovered that I had a

voice in something I didn’t even know I cared about.

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Always  Apart  by  Katie  O'Malley-­  aged  14    

“Наш  самолет  вылетает  через  час,”  my mother informed me of

our departure time. Traveling was not foreign to me. In fact, you’d think

that I had grown accustomed to the busyness of airports; that I was no

longer bothered by the crowds or the smell of coffee and perfumes from

duty-free stores. After all, I’d been traversing the globe ever since I was

little. My family and I had traveled from Russia, my birthplace, on many

occasions. However, I still found myself gagging on the odor. The

Yanbu, Saudi Arabia airport was barely a quarter of the size of regular

airports. There were only two gates and only one runway. I was

suffocated by the

overpowering smell of air

fresheners and the odor of

the people they were

trying to mask. While I

sat in an uncomfortable

blue chair waiting for my

flight, I wished that I

could run back to the

parking lot and give my

dad one final hug. When we got past security and had to walk away from

him, I felt as if a part of me was being torn out. It was the beginning of

another seemingly endless separation, one that would last at least until

spring.

As I sat flicking through the pages of my already completed

crossword-puzzle book, I spotted a young boy nearby trying to kick the

seat in front of him, and prayed that I wouldn’t have to sit in front of him

on the plane. The day had already been bad enough. In the previous year,

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my family had relocated to Orlando, Florida from our home in the Middle

East. However, my father had to stay, as his job was our main source of

income. Living away from him was extremely difficult, especially

because the seven-hour time difference did not allow us much time to

talk. When we got to visit him for Christmas, even if it was only for two

weeks, we savored every last minute of it.

“Boarding for Turkish Airlines flight will begin in fifteen

minutes,” a Saudi gate agent announced over the intercom. I have

realized that time flies. The two weeks that I spent with my father flew

by. The irony is that the time I will spend waiting to see him again will

not. If anything, it will pass by even slower. I took a deep breath and

looked around the airport again, glancing over luminous signs and

televisions.

“Turkish Airlines flight is now boarding,” the intercom declared.

My family and I stood up and headed for the gate. I saw my mother pull

out her cell phone and check her messages.

“Папа  послал  тебе  сообщение,”  she handed me her phone and

instructed me to read the message on the screen. It read: “Have a safe

flight. Tell Katie and Conor that I miss you all already.” I smiled as I

made my way through the enclosed jet way leading to the airplane that

would fly us more than 7,000 miles away from my dad.

  26  

My  Ordinary  Day  by  Edward  Morton  -­  aged  14    

I awoke early one morning to the sound of the kookaburras teasing,

yet delightful laugh. As I got out of my tepid, comfortable bed I looked

out the window at an inspiring sunrise. Nature's creativity with colours is

beyond words. Many do not see such beauty in such a simple thing as a

sunrise.

As I exited my small yet roomy bedroom I smelt a wonderful

aroma. I walked into the kitchen to find an extraordinary breakfast, with a

side drink of orange juice. It was a meal fit for a king, though I'm no

monarch. As I swallowed the last morsels of food on my plate, I cleaned

my plate and disposed of it. I then decided I needed some fresh air.

The second I walked outside, I heard the symphony of angels. Up

in the trees I saw dozens of birds, singing a chorus of whistles. The sky

was a pale blue, with an isolated cloud in the centre. As I gazed at the

atmospheric canvas I heard the distant sound of a small car. As I turned

my head towards the driveway I saw an old souped-up Subaru Outback.

Over the decades the paint job had worn and the engine had become

faulty, but it still was as trusty as a best friend. My father ascended from

the pint-sized vehicle and asked me to help him with some cattle work in

the paddocks.

As we hastily drove along the dirt road we discussed last nights

football match. As we neared the gate, the herd of cows retreated towards

the left hand corner of the paddock. We reluctantly drove after the

runway heifers and attempted to move them towards the open gate. When

we had got around three quarters of them in, the remaining others took of

along the sturdy fence.

As they kept too close to the border we sped forwards, trying to

stay ahead of the pack. When we finally managed to transfer all the cows

  27  

from one paddock to the other, we headed home.

When we walked inside, I was surprised to find it was almost noon.

While we had been away a gourmet lunch had been made, Moroccan

lamb and capsicum on a fresh baked pizza dough. We devoured this fine

meal and went straight to the TV and we turned it on to find Carlton vs

Collingwood AFL match. We watched with great anticipation and

excitement, but sadly Carlton lost by a 15-point deficit.

I decided to go outside for some fresh air and found myself kicking

the footy to my brother. We stood there discussing the game and what

Carlton could do to improve. When we got inside it was around 8:30 and

dinner was already made. It was a delicious roast pork dinner with a side

of vegetables. When I finished and cleaned up the kitchen I headed

straight to bed and thought to myself, "Even an ordinary day can be a

perfect one".